Free Nothing But the Truth by Carsen Taite Page B

She was keyed up, and she attributed it to the caffeine from earlier. Flashes of Brett kept invading her thoughts. She pushed away the obvious conclusion that the edge she felt had anything to do with the conflicting emotions she experienced in Brett’s presence.
    The solution to take the edge off approached her from behind.
    “You have a delicious ass.”
    The voice was honey smooth and the hands grazing her jeans teased her arousal. Ryan relished the attention for a moment before turning toward her admirer. The woman facing her was riveting. For the second time that day, Ryan was face-to-face with a beauty whose height allowed her to look her in the eye without having to tilt her head. Visions of the lengths of their naked bodies fully aligned, lying side by side, made Ryan wet.
    The woman was dressed in white leather. A tight bodice, laced in front, pushed her breasts to full attention. Snug pants hugged slender hips and encased the woman’s very long legs. Ryan’s mind wandered to another tall drink of water, and she imagined Brett Logan standing before her, masterful in leather. She resisted the urge to smile at the image in her mind considering she had last seen Brett dressed in faded jeans, well-worn Nikes, and a University of Texas sweatshirt. She pushed away the tickling notion that Brett in her jeans was considerably sexier than the luscious leather clad brunette standing before her. She found her voice.
    “I do? How can you tell?”
    “My hands tell me everything I need to know. They are always right.”
    “Your hands can taste?”
    “All my senses rely on whatever my hands tell them. They’re always right.”
    “They are, are they?” Her fantasies fought to come to life. She couldn’t have the woman she was thinking about, but she could have the one who was here for no other purpose than to please the guests of the house. Ryan may not break the rules of the house, but she was already breaking her personal code. Don’t flirt. No unnecessary conversation. Don’t beg. If she didn’t get to a room with this woman soon, that last tenet was in serious danger.
    “Follow me?”
    Ryan took the woman’s hand and followed.

Chapter Seven

    Brett studied the woman in her office doorway. Her clothes hugged her body like a sausage. Her tight red curls were at odds with her olive skin. Her coral colored lipstick ran outside the lines and her blue eye shadow was a throwback to the eighties. She talked like a person hopped up on caffeine, and although she was petite, she managed to maneuver her body so that she blocked the person Brett really wanted to see.
    Brett asked Mrs. Phillips to take a seat on the couch to the side of her desk, and she focused her attention on Kenneth. She placed his age at around twenty. He was rail thin. His clothes hung on his body like those of a hastily dressed scarecrow.
    “Kenneth, before we get into the facts of why you are here, I need to let you know some ground rules.” He nodded. “I need you to be able to tell me everything about this case and I need to be able to ask you questions. Frank and personal questions about what you tell me.” Brett shot a look at Mrs. Phillips. She was perched on the edge of the sofa, barely sitting. Brett wanted her out of the room. “I am bound by law and the rules of my profession to keep everything you tell me confidential. However, in order for attorney-client privilege to apply, the information you share with me has to be shared in private.”
    Kenneth nodded. His mother didn’t move. Brett wondered if she was talking into the wind. Time to be perfectly clear. “Mrs. Phillips, I’m happy to talk to the two of you together about the procedural aspects of this case, but I need to talk to Kenneth privately about the facts of the case itself.”
    Clients liked the comfort of family and friends. Their presence fortified them for the things they planned to say and the admonitions they expected to hear. But Brett preferred these sessions be